Saturday, March 28, 2015

Tree Tops





















The foot-routes available
through the air
around the front yard
have replaced my old
dreams of flight.
It must be a
settling of spirit
into body that happens
as one ages.
But those dreams are
grand enough,
like the squrrel who uses
the trees as highways.
There's a place up there,
always wild,
living under its soles.

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